Conflict
by public static void
Summary: Ron didn't know what to do. Malfoy was on the ground, half kneeling and pleading, openly crying out things Ron didn't know how to take. He couldn't hate Malfoy when he deserved only pity, but for the life of him, Ron couldn't pity him either.


Ron grunted when his body hit the ground after their hasty escape from Malfoy Manor. The grains of sand digging into his palms made him sigh in relief. He knew this beach and knew they were safe. The salty air around him and the breeze hitting his face made him feel safe.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The indignant and wrathful voice of Harry took Ron out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw the emaciated body of Draco Malfoy.

"Go back to your master, Malfoy," Harry growled, pointing two wands directly to Malfoy's throat. Ron saw the blond wizard raise his hands and shake his head, and could not feel the same anger Harry was showing him.

There was something in Malfoy's face that was too familiar, and Ron didn't want to admit it was the feeling of being wrong. The same expression Malfoy wore was the one he saw in the mirror when he abandoned his friends for a bed and a warm dinner. Ron felt the rush of blood in his ears and knew he was still ashamed of that even if he wouldn't say it out loud.

"Don't stand here! Don't you dare stand here and stain this place with your presence, Malfoy!" kept on yelling Harry, the wands firmly set in Malfoy's neck.

"Harry Potter," came Dobby's voice, weak and almost faded.

They all turned to look at him. The blood was unmistakeable, and the anguished look on Dobby's face made Ron act. He lifted Hermione and, forgetting about Draco Malfoy, ran to the cottage to send help for the elf.

Fleur ran out as soon as Ron told them someone was hurt, Bill went too after sending Ron and Hermione to the small room by the kitchen. He set his friend there and, hesitating, pressed a kiss to her brow. He couldn't dare to do more than that, not when she was knocked out because of the sheer trauma of having the word mudblood carved into her arm.

"You can follow the herschelines," said Luna from the door, "I'll stay with her."

Ron nodded, not even asking what the herschelines were, glad that at least Luna could lose herself into her fantasies to avoid the reality. He would not like to do the same, but for someone like Luna that was the best.

He went out in time to see Harry crying over Dobby's body. It was not a good scene, because as much as he wanted to be a little bit like Harry and Hermione, he could not see past Dobby being a house-elf. He had died bravely, helping the wizard he considered his master; Ron knew that was enough for the elf.

What he wanted to do right then was to make sure Malfoy left his brother's home and never got back.

Ron's footsteps felt heavy as he walked on the sand to where Malfoy was standing. His wand was ready, and many spells went through his mind when he tried to think what to do. Malfoy would have no chance, wandless and being no more than a shadow of his former self.

The blond wizard was dirty, and he looked as malnourished as Harry and Hermione were. Easy prey.

Except that when Ron got near enough Malfoy, the other wizard turned to face him with wide and scared eyes.

"Don't hurt me," he said, raising his hands in front of him as a sign of peace. "Please, Weasley. Don't hurt me, I'm wandless. I'm no threat."

"Hermione was no threat either, but you did nothing to help her," Ron retorted, feeling his rage pooling inside him, flowing to his wand and taking the form of a curse he was not familiar with, but that shone red in the morning light. "Why shouldn't I do to you what your Aunt did to her?"

Draco flinched when Ron threw himself forward, standing inches away from Malfoy. He was shaking with fear, and Ron smirked wickedly, thinking the disgusting man deserved every ounce of the fear he felt, for all the wrongs he had done and those he would surely do in the future. People like him didn't change.

"I... I helped Potter!" Draco defended himself, stepping back and throwing his arms in front of him as a shield. Ron grinned, thinking how desperate Malfoy should feel. "I didn't tell Bellatrix! I was going to set you free when they were all sleeping! Please!"

Ron's grin fell. Malfoy was pathetic.

"Go, then," he whispered, still viciously holding his wand to Draco's chest. "Go and never come back. I won't even hurt you, Draco."

Malfoy shook his head. "I don't want to go. I have no place to go."

"That's not our problem. Is it? At least it isn't mine."

"Please, Ron!"

Ron lurched forward. "Don't call me that. Only my friends have that right."

Draco seemed to be on the verge of crying, and he was shaking more than Neville at the thought of his grandmother. Ironically, it was then that Draco snorted and laughed.

"It all comes down to that," he laughed bitterly. "I tried to be your friend! Yours and Potter's! I would trade all my acquaintances for a chance to shake your hands and be as brave as you are! I tried to be your friend! I tried!"

Ron didn't know what to do. Malfoy was on the ground, half kneeling and pleading, openly crying out things Ron didn't know how to take. He couldn't hate Malfoy when he deserved only pity, but for the life of him, Ron couldn't pity him either.

For a long minute, Ron let Draco cry. His wand was still pointed at him, aiming towards his head, but Ron was not angry anymore. He wanted to get rid of Malfoy so he could go back to his friends. Real friends.

Instead of going away, instead of cursing Malfoy, Ron sat down in front of him.

"I know how it feels to be friend-less," he told the crying man, looking straight at his eyes. "I know how it feels to be lost, but I found my way thanks to Dumbledore, the man you tried to kill."

"And I couldn't kill him!" Draco shouted, punching the sand on the ground. "I didn't want to kill him... I didn't. He wanted me to fail to punish my family. I didn't kill him, I couldn't."

His words reminded Ron of Ginny. He made me do it, Ron. I promise I didn't want to hurt Hermione!

Voldemort could make anyone do his bidding as long as they were alone. Those were words he had learned the hard way when the oppressive feeling of the metallic locket brushed against his skin and tried to consume his soul to feed him Voldemort's in return. He shivered,

"He is too powerful," Malfoy muttered.

Ron was shocked at how young Malfoy looked with the tears on his cheeks and his eyes trying to hold on to his own, almost like a kid trying to grab his blanket to feel safe.

"Please, Weasley," Malfoy begged again, grabbing Ron's hand between his. "Don't make me leave."

Malfoy's hands were bony and clammy, but Ron could feel the pulse on his wrist. It was agitated, and for a brief moment, Ron thought of the sea during a storm. The thought went away quickly, not even registering on Ron's mind. He would be appalled at the comparison he drew between the half-starved, begging Draco Malfoy and the sea he always loved.

He didn't draw back his hand and felt a tingling on his chest and face when his fingers began to move on their own. Having their hands entwined felt right in a way Ron had never felt; it had nothing to do with guilt or pity or anger, and it was more intense than holding hands with Hermione during their nights at Grimmauld Place.

"I... I'll ask Bill and Fleur," Ron agreed against his better judgement. "But you will have to make yourself useful, Malfoy. And don't talk to Hermione at all. Don't get near her or Luna."

"I won't hurt them. Or anyone. I''ll do anything you ask me to."

Malfoy's honest eyes told Ron he would, and the small surge of power left him momentarily exhilarated. Malfoy had always looked down at him and now he had him at his mercy. Too bad Ron did have mercy and not the convoluted arrogance of many people that led them to treat others like beloved pets thinking it was the right thing to do. He would have loved to boss Malfoy around in other circumstances, but today was not a good time.

"I need to check on Hermione," Ron spoke after a while, noticing how hopeful Malfoy looked when he helped him stand up. "Let me talk to Bill. They might not let you stay unsupervised, but my brother and his wife are not bad people."

"Neither are you," Ron heard Malfoy whisper with his face down. He frowned and looked at him. "You' could have killed me."

The reality of Malfoy's words made Ron feel nauseous, remembering how he had been about to hurt his best friend a few weeks before when the Horcrux got the best of him. If he had been willing to hurt Harry, what could he do to people like Malfoy? He wouldn't have been in the wrong because the Slytherin had helped the Death Eaters.

Ron's heart clenched when he looked at Malfoy and saw he was staring at him intently. Their hands were still linked.

Ron didn't want to let go. He could see Malfoy growing red in the face and looking down again, and he knew his ears must have been as red as the blood on Dobby's stomach.

His stomach turned when he thought of that, and he hurried to be with Harry. His friend would be emotionally punishing himself as painfully as any elf did when they failed their masters. Harry needed Ron at his side helping him dig Dobby's grave. Hermione needed him at her side taking care of her while she recovered.

Ron let go.


End file.
